A Promise Kept
by Killian's Lady
Summary: All magic comes with a price. Six years later, Killian Jones still can't let her go. (Captain Swan angst, Captain Cobra. K for brief suicidal thoughts. For my CS Secret Shipmate, caishakalianah!)


**This is for my Captain Swan Secret Santa, ****caishakalianah**! You requested a fic of angst, so I drummed up the most angsty one-shot that came to mind. Hope you cry a river of tears!  
I had to post your gift a bit early, because I won't be here tomorrow/Sunday (I'll be gone on a mission trip with my church until Wednesday). Meaning I have to wait three extra days to watch the 3B premiere. Anyways, enjoy your fic, I hope it's what you wanted!

**Usual disclaimer.**

* * *

If he could go back, he wouldn't do anything differently.

Those weeks had been nothing but bliss for him. Ever since that stolen kiss among the hot and humid trees, Killian Jones had known he was a man fallen head over heels in love. And for the pirate, nothing could exceed being able to spend those days at his Swan's side after their year of being apart. The pain of being separated from her, his last real reason to live, had tormented him for months, until sleep no longer came to his tired body and his mind couldn't leave the thought of her. But now that he had her back, the pain was subsiding and he was relishing in simply being with her.

In that time, they had become closer than before. Emma relied on him more and more, as Killian had quickly become one of the few constant people in her life. Through all the drama of trying to figure out why Storybrooke was back and who was after them next, they had been almost glued to the hip, seldom seen without the other. Most of their day was spent on their mission, but every now and then they would stick together simply to be in the other's company. Slowly, hesitantly, Emma began to open up, her already weakened walls crumbling when she was with him. Small admissions and secrets were trusted to him, and he would keep them close as if she gave him a piece of her heart. Killian couldn't ask for much more than that. He would have waited another century if needed for Emma to make a choice, but at the time he would revel in being whomever she needed him to be.

Oh, how he wished for those days again.

They had come to a screeching halt when the curse instigator revealed itself to be Zelena. The green witch was destructive, sending residents into a mad panic and destroying the small fishing town with fiery explosion. Malicious laughter cackled, green magic crackled, and slowly Storybrooke had descended into chaos.

"_Take him. Keep him safe."_

_He wanted to protest. He wanted to stay at her side like he'd done the past couple of weeks, to help her and her family take down the green bitch. "Emma-"_

"_Killian," she whispered. "Please. He's my son. If something happened to him…"_

_The combination of the pleading in her green eyes, glistening with tears, and her using his real name for the first time made him exhale a shuddering breath. "Alright then."_

"_No. That's not good enough. You have to promise me," Emma begged. "Swear that no matter what, you'll protect him. He comes before me, before you, before anything." She had taken hold of the lapels of his coat, staring into his too-blue eyes, hoping she could converse why it had to be him. He wouldn't lie to her, never. Hook was the only one she trusted enough to take care of her son, the only one who always came back to her. And with Neal dead, she wasn't sure she could continue if she lost them both as well._

_Killian pulled her against him in a comforting embrace. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered in her ear, "I promise."_

He hadn't been there when it happened. He was with Henry on some lonely shore a few miles from the town line, teaching the lad how to navigate by the stars. While Killian had been there physically, showing the basic rope knots, mentally he had been miles away, still at the side of his Savior.

_Their plan had been simple and seemed foolproof, but it had all gone wrong. Now Emma stood in the middle of Main Street, watching her parents and Regina fall to their knees as they began to cough blood. Zelena, a wide, cruel smile splitting her villainous features, took a few steps towards Emma. _

"_This is what happens when you defy me," she spoke in a haughty voice, her head up as if it made her taller. "You get to watch the people you love die. If you had just let me settle a grudge older than yourself with my half-sister, your precious town would be fine. Probably." Zelena waved one hand airily. "But by getting yourself mixed up, you've doomed everyone you love." A slim green finger pointed at David, and he collapsed entirely. _

"_No!" Emma screeched. She felt something warm flowing through her, filling every vein of her body. She wouldn't lose them all again. _

_A tittering laugh escaped the witch's throat. "Oh yes, my pretty. What a pity you can't do anything to stop me as you watch your family die before you, one by one."_

"_I….said….NO!" Emma felt like she was filling up with explosives, a ticking time bomb ready to erupt at any second. As her body began to glow, Zelena's expression of victory slowly melted and was replaced by something else; fear. _

_A massive ripple of pure light burst from the Savior, blinding everyone within half a mile. It hit the witch like a solid moving wall, slamming her backwards into the side of a building. A final scream escaped Zelena's throat before she was vaporized. _

_For a few minutes, the light was so brilliant and blinding no one could move. Then, finally, it began to fade. David, Snow, and Regina got to their feet in a daze, no longer suffering from the magical ailment. Then they spotted Emma, lying still on the ground. A gasp escaped Snow, while her husband simply shouted, "No!" and ran to his daughter's side. _

_David hurriedly felt for a pulse. "She's unconscious."_

"_She saved us," Regina said sadly, standing above the two parents. "Zelena is dead. We were healed. All thanks to her." She looked over the fallen Savior. "But all magic comes with a price. And I'm afraid Emma has paid it." _

Killian took a shuddering breath, exhaling slowly as he drew a hand over his tired face, the chair creaking as he leaned back. The recollection of the worst day of his life wasn't making his already bad mood any better. Turning his heavy eyes from the blank wall he faced, Killian focused on the bed next to him.

Blond hair fanned out on the pillow, Emma lay with her eyes closed, a peaceful expression on her face. The steady beep of the machine next to her was soothing to Killian, reminding him that they hadn't lost her yet. There was still hope.

For the past six years, Emma Swan had lain in the hospital bed in a coma. The doctors had done all they could. Her family searched for some sort of magical remedy, but Regina had warned them that if they did manage to cure her through magic, the repercussions would be even greater than what she had paid. Emma would never want her family to sacrifice that much for her. And so here Emma lay, the only movement being the rise and fall of her chest, kept alive by Life Support.

Her lad pleaded with Hook to try a True Love's kiss, but when he complied, there was no ripple of magic. Just her soft, unmoving lips against his trembling ones. "It's not a curse, it's a consequence," Henry had sniffed, "That's why it didn't work."

Every day, Killian would visit Emma. He would sit in the chair by her bed -once new, now well-worn from six years of a daily visitor- and talk to her. Sometimes he'd tell her about his day, what he ate, who he'd seen, what he did. Other times he'd tell her one of his adventures from his pirate days. Killian always made sure to let her know how her son was and what he was up to. Once a week, he would change out the wilting flowers at her bedside with some freshly hand-picked ones. Always stargazers. He remembered her mentioning once as they had walked by Mr. French's that the lilies were her favorite. "I love how they smell," Emma had said, flashing a small smile at the man by her side.

And so here he sat, at seven o'clock on a Thursday, having just finished telling his story, and running his hands through his dark hair. After the fight, Rumpelstiltskin had been freed from the witch's leash, and had been grateful towards Killian. "For protecting my grandson," the crocodile had said. In return, his one-time enemy had returned his hand.

But he didn't want his hand. He wanted Emma.

The beginning of the swift patter of rain on the pavement outside awoke Killian from his trance. He stood up, stretched, and arched his back, knowing it was time he leave. Visitor hours would be over soon. The former pirate caressed Emma's cheek lovingly, a sad smile softening his tired features, before leaving down to place a kiss to her forehead.

* * *

"Killian…I think it's time."

Over the past six years, there had been no change in Emma's condition. More than once, the Charmings had tried to take her off life support, to let her slowly slip away on her own. _She'll never recover,_ they had said, _We're only prolonging the inevitable here. No one wants to lose Emma, but it's the right thing to do. _But Killian wouldn't let them. He couldn't say goodbye, not why she was still breathing. Henry had stood stoutly with him, saying, "Where there's life, there's hope."

Henry. Emma's son. They had gotten very close in the six years, to the point where it was rare that one could be found without the other outside of school and work. The lad was nineteen years of age now, as tall as his grandfather but with his mother's features and father's build. Killian reflected how in his teens, he had let his hair grow out into a curly brown mop. Now it was shorter, slightly gelled in the front in what he called the "cool style chicks dig." Originally, he had planned to go to college, but by his senior year he decided against it. Not because he wasn't smart enough or didn't have the grades, but Henry didn't think that was what he wanted. He had moved to Albany in a modest apartment, only a few hours drive away from Storybrooke. The young man visited often at everyone's request, provided his grandparents paid for the gas.

_Young man_. It seemed strange to Killian to call him that. To him, Henry would probably always be a bit of that twelve year old he rescued from Neverland. But of course, he never said that aloud.

Killian Jones had kept his promise to Emma Swan. Throughout the six years, he'd made sure he was always there for Henry. Without a father, and one of his mothers in a coma, he had quickly latched onto the pirate. They had formed a unique bond. And while he had Regina, and his grandparents, and later Robin, there was something special about his relationship with Killian. Around fifteen, Henry had begun referring to him as his step-dad. The first time he had said it, Killian had nearly choked up with emotions, but managed to keep back the tears as he was introduced to his _stepson's_ new friend. Henry had visited Emma as often as he could, but was limited as he lived in a separate state. Through all those years, he had always stood by Killian in the decision to keep his mother alive.

And that was why, now, sitting in the hospital, Killian couldn't believe the words coming from Henry's mouth. It took him a few seconds to comprehend, blinking confusingly.

"What?"

Henry sat down on the edge of Emma's bed with a sigh. "I've been wanting to talk to you about this all week, yet it never seemed like the right time. But I guess now's as good as later."

Killian swallowed, not meeting his eyes as he habitually played with a loose thread on his jeans (He had given up the leather long ago, trading it for the boot-cut denim, a white shirt, and an unbuttoned plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows). "What is there to talk about?"

Sighing, Henry looked down at the floor. "I think it's time we let her go."

Immediately Killian's head shot up. "No."

"Killian-"

"_No._ Why would…how could you even _think_ about it?"

Emma's son ran his hands through his already mussed hair. "I don't know when exactly I started to change my mind, but…I'm starting to agree with the others. That it'd be what Emma wanted."

Rising to his feet, his stepfather began walking aimlessly around the room. "Emma would want us to keep hoping," Killian shouted angrily, not meeting Henry's eyes, "Hope was something Emma treasured. She understood how it was a powerful thing, because for most of her life she had none." He finally met his stepson's gaze, glaring through his tears. "And I think she'd be ashamed of the fact her own son was giving up."

_That was cruel,_ a tiny voice in his head said as Killian marched out of the room, but he pushed it away. He tried not to imagine Henry's hurt expression as he shoved his way through the hospital doors, instead focusing on the route that would lead him to the docks.

* * *

By the time he reached the seashore, it was long since dark. Most of the stars were out, a few hidden by evening clouds. The steady sound of waves lapping on the sand were calming. Killian sat down in the sand, hands clasped over his knees, taking deep breaths in attempt to reel in his anger. The ocean always helped his mood.

"_It's in your blood, after all." Emma smiled, her green gaze on the red sunset above the crashing waves._

"_Too right, lass. I am one with the ocean," Killian joked. He couldn't take his eyes off her; that smile was genuine, as was the little laugh that followed._

"_Oh? Tell me something about her, then," she teased._

_Killian was very aware of their proximity. Friends didn't just casually lean against you, hands on your arm, while watching the sunset together. But he tried not to think about it. "Well," he drawled, "Tomorrow's going to be a calm day. No storms."_

"_How do you know?"_

_He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "'Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailor's warning,'" he recited the old poem, recalling how Liam had taught it to him when he was just a wee lad. "If the sky just after sunset is red, then the following day the waves will be smooth. However, if dawn has a red sky, sailors are to expect rough weather."_

_Emma tore her gaze away from the beautiful sight to look at him, only to find Killian was already looking at her. Blue met green in an intense stare, neither able to tear their eyes away. Then Emma let out an unexpected giggle. "Your hair's sticking up all over the place."_

As the bittersweet memory flashed through his mind, Killian broke down. He sobbed into the knees of his jeans, unchecked tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't lose her, he just couldn't, he _couldn't…_first his mother, torn away when he was young. Then his father, slipping away in the night and leaving his two sons. Liam, his brother. Milah, his first love. Baelfire, the first to get through to him and make him reconsider his revenge. Why did they all leave him?

_Maybe it's not them,_ a dark voice whispered, _Maybe it's you. _

He couldn't lose Emma. She was all Killian had left to live for. Even if she wasn't _alive_, even if she wasn't there _mentally_, just being in her presence preserved the tiny flicker of hope that still burned weakly within him. He had ignored reality every time he went to visit; that there was no cure, no miracle solution, that she was gone and there was nothing he could do. Killian pushed it all back, because without that flame of hope, all he could see ahead for him was cold darkness. If his soul was a mirror, Liam's death had cracked him. Milah's had broken him. Then Emma had come along, slowly gluing him back together shard by shard. Still damaged, but whole. If Killian lost her too, then it'd be as if he'd been shattered again, and this time the frame was burned.

The soft sound of shoes scuffling through the dry sand alerted Killian to the presence approaching. Quickly, he dried his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath.

"Hey," Henry said, settling down next to his stepfather. He crossed his long legs, hunching his back and staring at the sea. Killian didn't say anything.

"I know…this will sound lame…but…." The lad took a deep breath, "I get it. It's hard for you." When he got no response, he turned his gaze to the man next to him, eyes softening and voice gentle. "She loved you, you know."

Killian finally raised his head, "What makes you say that?" he croaked, throat dry. He narrowed his eyes against the cold breeze as it stung his dry eyes.

Henry allowed himself a small smile. "I knew her. I saw the way she looked at you. Everyone did. I'm certain. And I'm sure she still loves you, wherever her mind is now." Awkwardly, he scratched the back of his neck, a habit he did when he was nervous. "But I also know one thing. This isn't what Emma would have wanted. Before you tell me otherwise, please, Killian, I know her. Do you really think Emma would have wanted you to spend the rest of your days at her bedside, drowning in grief? You told me Emma understood the importance of hope. But she also taught me that there is nothing worse than false hope. To let her go, Killian…it wouldn't be giving up. It'd be accepting the reality of the situation."

Henry waited a minute for a response, but it never came. So he got to his feet, dusting the sand off his pants. "Just…just think about it for a little while, okay?"

* * *

Killian did think about it.

Earlier in the hospital, he had been blinded by his grief and refusal to accept what had been happening for the past six years. Now that his mind was clearer, he began to think much more clearly about the situation. For a long time, he had not want to contemplate even the idea of letting her go, the thought outrageous and not worth his time. But now…now he was beginning to seriously consider it. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it, or was relieved.

His thoughts strayed to that sunny afternoon when they had gone for a walk in the woods. Killian wasn't sure what compelled them to do so in the middle of winter; perhaps to escape the madness for just a little while. To take a small break. They had been talking about the year apart, what had happened in Emma's life. Most of it, Killian didn't understand, as she chatted away in modern jargon. And when she turned to see him see staring at her with adoration, clearly not listening, the words had died on her lips.

She had stood up on her toes, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a thank you whispered in his ear.

Henry had said that Emma would have wanted him to live life, not to shadow her bedside for the rest of his days. But did she really expect him to move on from her?

_No_, a gentle voice whispered in his mind, _Of course not. But she'd want you to at least try to be happy. Maybe not by another lover, but family._

Killian's thought turned towards the Charmings. Despite their wants to let Emma go, they had always been supportive and there for him. They often invited him over for dinner, and a place was always set for him just in case he chose to swing by. For the times he did, Killian remembered guiltily how he had acted; silent, closed in, wrapped up in his sorrow enough that he didn't participate in any of the table conversations. Then he thought of Marcus, Emma's six-year old brother (he was born merely a month after she had fallen into the coma). The bright child was always happy to see him, affectionately calling him "Uncle Killy." Normally, Killian would have hated the nickname, but from the lips of the small lad he would allow himself a rare smile (even if he was technically, if anything, Marcus's brother-in-law, although he called Henry his cousin. Then again, he supposed having a nephew older than you would be too weird). Clearly, the Charmings already considered him family. If only he hadn't been so grief-ridden as to have noticed that before now.

But he wasn't sure if that was enough. Enough to live for. He may be an honorary Charming, but he doubted they could ever quite give his life enough meaning. Sitting at the dinner table had already been painful enough, watching the happy family. It only increased the ache in his heart, knowing he'd never…he'd never have a little boy with dark hair and green eyes, or a brown haired girl with his blue eyes. Even before Emma's…incident, those thoughts were flash through his head on occasion. Killian at the time had merely pushed them away, knowing he was getting far ahead of himself. No, knowing that he could never, ever have that…never get to grow old with the woman he loved…he'd surely die. If not by his own hand, then by his shattered heart.

"_Take him. Keep him safe."_

"_Alright then."_

"_No. That's not good enough. You have to promise me. Swear that no matter what, you'll protect him. He comes before me, before you, before anything"_

"_I promise."_

The words exchanged on that fateful day echoed through his mind, loud and clear and reminding him. Reminding him that he made a promise. Henry was still young, barely an adult. His birth mother had been lying in a coma for the past six years. His grandparents, while they loved and cared for him very much, had a family of their own. Regina and Robin had moved back to the Enchanted Forest, the home where their hearts truly lied. Henry enjoyed adventures there, but he decided that he preferred the world he grew up in to be his home. He visited his adoptive mother often by magic beans. He had lost his father not once, but twice. And while Henry held the heart of the truest believer, even he was beginning to realize that they were holding onto Emma too tight for too long.

It hit Killian like a freight train how selfish he was being. After losing much of his family already, Henry didn't deserve to lose his stepfather too. Throughout the later half of his life, Killian had always made sure to be there for the boy, to be a constant parental figure that he could always turn to with no hesitation. Remembering the pain he constantly felt, the pain of losing everyone close to him, he silently vowed never to put Henry through that. Memories of day trips out on the Jolly Roger and nights spent teaching the constellations raced through Killian's head.

He could never abandon Henry like that. Never. It would be selfish. He'd be there to buy Henry his first (legal) beer, to give him advice on his girlfriend, to help him pack and move when the time came. Killian would keep his oath.

With a sigh, the former pirate rose to his feet, turning to look at the stars one more time. The Charmings, Henry- they were right. He had clung to Emma for too long, and now it was time to let go. He was certain he'd see here again, one day, but not for a long time.

Because Killian Jones made a promise.

* * *

**This is only my second CS fanfiction ever, though I'm much happier with how this one turned out than the first. It's also my first angst.**

**Originally, there was also going to be a flashback part of Emma telling Killian that even when she was cursed with Walsh, there was still a little hole in her heart, and Emma admitted to thinking it was Killian. However, I couldn't find anywhere that it fit well and it made them seem a bit too OOC. **

**Please review, so I can continue to write more one-shots!  
**


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